


god is gonna have to kill me twice

by My_King_And_Your_Lionheart



Series: We're All Just Kids [4]
Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Teenage Criminals, Angst, Blood, Child Neglect, Connor's been through some shit, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kaldur is a Good Bro, Knives, Listen it starts out bad but it gets better i promise, Roy is also a Good Bro, Superman is not a Good Dad, Yes Kaldur Is In The Mob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 05:12:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13674939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_King_And_Your_Lionheart/pseuds/My_King_And_Your_Lionheart
Summary: His dad might say some mean words to him, or forget to give him dinner a couple times, or leave the door locked even though he knows Connor doesn't have a key. Connor's fine. Really. Sticks and stones and all that. That beer bottle is new, though.Re: How Connor and Kaldur Met





	god is gonna have to kill me twice

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so listen. This is heavy, and isn't for everyone. There's no directly written abuse, but it's talked about so there's really no missing it. With all the warning, stay safe y'all.
> 
> Not beta'd y'all know to tell me if anything is disastrously wrong.  
> Fic title from young and menace by fall out boy

Kaldur is walking home from the store when he sees the kid sitting on the stoop of the house. There’s a rag in his hand, pressed up above his left eye, and Kaldur’s been in enough fights to know that slope of shoulders, has seen enough shit in his time to know that this kid is tired. There’s a crash from inside the house and the kid’s shoulders curl in so much Kaldur isn’t sure how that much muscle mass packs into so small a compression.

“Roy, beloved, I will have to call you back. There is trouble.” Kaldur can hear Roy snort on the other end of the line.

_“When isn’t there, with you around. Just stay in one piece, and text me if you need back up.”_ There is a brief pause, and if not for Roy’s breathing, Kaldur would think his boyfriend had ended the call. _“I love you.”_ Kaldur can’t help the small smile that takes over his face.

“As I love you. I will see you in a bit.” The phone beeps and Kaldur puts it in his back pocket. He readjusts his grip on the woven handles of the reusable grocery bags he insisted they get – _“Plastic bags harm the environment, Roy, the oceans are full of garbage.”_ – and squares his shoulders. This will not be pleasant, but it must be done. In a couple of strides Kaldur is in front of the teenager who can only be a few years younger than he himself is. “Are you okay?”

The boy jerks up, eyes wild, his left framed in blood that he hadn’t quite wiped away. His shoulders close up again and his feet readjust where they’re positioned on the stairs. Kaldur has spent years reading body language. This kid is terrified, and ready to run. Kaldur crouches so he has to look up into the boy’s face. He can still defend himself, if need be, but he also just made himself considerably less threatening, so hopefully he can talk this out.

“I’m fine.” It’s short, and thrown out from behind clenched teeth. The boy’s eyes are still wide, even as the left one is starting to swell a bit. Kaldur waits for a moment, his eyes flicking pointedly to the blood-stained rag in the kid’s hand. “It was an accident.” The lie is so painfully obviously a lie, and Kaldur cannot stand by, not when this boy’s knuckles are bone white and the rag is still soaking up blood.

“What is your name?” Kaldur put his bags down on the ground by the first step. The boy shifts again, away from the bag. “I promise I will not harm you. You have my word.” The kid’s eyes narrow like he doesn’t understand that Kaldur’s word is his law. Though, Kaldur supposes, Americans may not be as honor bound as he is, but he lived in Greece for most of his life until that bloody turf war that divided his city and made him move to the States to live with his mother and her husband.

“It’s – ” The word comes out hoarse, and the boy stops to clear his throat. “It’s Connor.” Kaldur waits a beat, but it’s evident that no last name is coming with it, and Kaldur doesn’t entirely blame him, not when a total stranger just came up to him while he was covered in blood.

“I am Kaldur. May I look at your injury?” Connor looks at him again, and Kaldur almost resigns himself to not being able to help this kid, but he lowers the rag, exposing the still bleeding cut to the light. It’s not deep, but it’s long, and Kaldur isn’t sure how he got the wound until he sees the fragments of dark green glass around and in the cut. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, and Connor’s hand on his wrist is a vise before he so much as opens his messages.

“No cops. That just makes it worse.” Kaldur nods, understanding the meaning behind the words.

“I was going to text my boyfriend, actually.” Connor lets go of his wrist after a brief moment, and Kaldur sends Roy a quick text ( _I may need assistance after all. Outside on corner of Darbush and Corendor)_ before pocketing his phone again. “Am I correct in assuming that if the police make matters worse, then this was not an accident?” Connor’s mouth sets in a thin line, but his shoulders droop.

“It’s my dad. This is the first time he’s really done something like this, but he’ll lock me out some nights. Yells a lot. Neighbors called the cops, once.” There’s more there, Kaldur knows, but he won’t get it out of Connor sitting on the steps of this house. “He’s drunk. He didn’t mean to hurt me.” Kaldur’s heard the same justification out of too many people, right before he made husbands and wives and fathers and mothers and brothers and sisters pay for their crimes in blood. If there was one thing his leader never tolerated, it was abuse, no matter the circumstances of infliction.

“Is this your house?” Connor shrugs. Kaldur’s phone buzzes in his pocket.

“I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” Kaldur nods. The door in front of him is wrenched open from the inside. Connor stands abruptly, almost falling down the stairs, tripping over Kaldur’s groceries. Kaldur catches him, but Connor skitters away from him. “Dad!” The man coming out of the house is large, and almost entirely muscle. Kaldur can see where Connor gets it from. He has a dark green bottle in his hand, and he is swaying where he stands. 

“Get back inside, Connor. Now.” His words are barely slurred, and Kaldur spares a thought to wonder how much he’s had to drink. Connor shrinks beside Kaldur, and Kaldur cannot allow him to go back into that house with that man. “Now, Connor!” It’s a shout, and Connor cringes back. His dad throws the bottle and Connor ducks; it lands somewhere behind them, shattering with a sharp sound. Kaldur places a hand lightly on Connor’s forearm.

“He will not be going with you.” Connor’s father’s eyes seem to see Kaldur for the first time, and his face grows even more red.

“And why isn’t that?” It’s less of a question, but Kaldur can see Roy’s SUV coming up the street, so he’s spared having to respond in a polite manner so as not to escalate. Connor’s father might be large, but Kaldur has fought twenty men his size at once with only his double _xiphos_. The butterfly knife Kaldur pulls from his jacket pocket should easily subdue this man if that is what needs to be done.

“You will not hurt him again.” He flips the butterfly knife open in a showy display, because the man’s eyes are wide, and Kaldur hopes that a little fear will let him leave with Connor quietly. Roy’s car stops behind Kaldur, and he can breathe a little bit easier. “Get in the car, Connor.” Kaldur locks eyes with Connor, who still looks terrified, but less so than before. He turns from his father and Kaldur can hear him open the car door.

“Don’t you walk away from me!” Connor’s father storms down the stairs as the car door slams shut. Kaldur squares his shoulders and positions himself firmly between the raging man and the car. Between this father and the son he refused to care for. “Out of my way.” A fist comes flying at Kaldur’s face, but it’s telegraphed, and the man has put all his weight behind it, so it is nothing to side step the swing and slice a shallow cut from his shoulder to his spine. Blood begins to well up in the slash, but Kaldur is already headed for the car, groceries in hand, as the man jerks around, trying to feel the wound. Kaldur gets in the car.

“Let us go home.” There’s an odd red tint to Kaldur’s vision, and he flips the knife closed without paying attention and nicks himself. The blade falls to the floor of the car, and Kaldur stares at the blood pooling in the creases of his palm. He closes his fists and leans his head back and closes his eyes. Connor is breathing heavily in the back seat.

“So what happens now?” Connor’s voice is shaky but clear. “I can’t go back. He’ll kill me.”

“We’ll clean up that cut, make dinner, set you up in the spare room. You won’t ever have to go back, not if you don’t want.” Roy’s the one who speaks, his calm tone betraying none of the worry he must have had just a few minutes ago. Roy never liked it when Kaldur pulled that knife out. That knife meant some one was getting hurt.

“I get to stay with you guys? For real?”

Kaldur’s fists are clenched in his lap; they do not loosen even as Roy places his hand over them. The red in his vision is mostly gone, but the blood remains crusted in his nailbeds. He takes a breath.

“No one will harm you again. I swear it.” Connor is silent in the back seat, but that’s okay.  When Kaldur unfolds his fists, his bones ache. The bleeding has stopped.

**Author's Note:**

> lol told u guys that this would be fueled by sleepless nights and stress. idk if this makes sense, but i need to sleep bc i have a quiz tomorrow (today) morning. ugh. leave a comment if y'all want to see anything in particular. I love hearing back from you guys. have a good one y'all <3


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